It's on the Dice
by ECKon04
Summary: He has a fair shake in two shakes, if it weren't for a crippling sort of self-deprication. This is an AU about how protectiveness is regrettably admirable. Solid writing, and a good read, I think.
1. prologue: Of newcomers and dining tables

A/N: ALRIGHTY! Conjured up a new idea, new story. I know some people hate AU, but since your reading this I'm guessing you don't, or have decided to try it out. I think it'll be good. Anyway, the prologue isn't in the first person like the rest of the story is going to be. BEWARE.

Listen to the Eels. They might have inspired this entire story. AHA.

Please enjoy, and review.

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Prologue

Two finished dinner a small time earlier than the rest. They decided to excuse themselves for a different activity, and were watched curiously, severely, and carefully while walking out of the Great Hall side by side.

Professor Sinistra turned her gaze away from the doorway, and sniffed dissaprovingly. "Well then, I suspect I'm not mistaken when I say that something entirely unprofessional is in the brewing there."

Snape grunted in agreement looking away from the empty seat next to him with a secret curiosity.

"That is an unfair speculation, Sinistra," piped Flitwick. "We musn't assume!"

The witch grumbled a bit about obviousness and obliviousness.

Sprout bounced in her seat. "Oh, but wouldn't they be the loveliest pair?"

Dumbledore laughed.

"This is a conversation suitable for third years," Snape sneered. "And the two would be very much akin to teenagers if anything was to play out."

"And what an example it will be to the students! Two of the staff sneaking around, showing affection. Very, very innapropriate!" Argued Sinistra.

McGonnagal clicked her tongue impatiently. "For goodness sakes, it hasn't been three hours since I introduced them. I had practically assigned Remus to show her around the library. There is absolutely nothing happening between them right now."

"I see dishonesty and heartbreak in their future, indeed," whispered Trelawney loudly.

McGonnagal rubbed her temples, struggling to keep her mouth shut.

"Now, now," Dumbledore spoke. "We've all known Remus for quite a long time. He is a deeply humble man, and exceedingly sensible. We need not worry about his judgment."

Flitwick nodded emphatically. "The most bright and responsible student I've had since Hermione Granger!" Snape snorted disdainfully.

"But I will say this ," continued Dumbledore. "That I do believe this term holds a wealth of possibility for Remus. Not only has he been offered a job that meets his small hopes for anything worth his abilities, but it includes a furnished apartment, warm food, and friendly, zealous faces, that I am eager to see look up to him. Remus needs this boost, and I know that he is more than capable for the position, despite his unfortunate impairment.

"And if this step in his life included a bit of love, the better for it."

"But she doesn't know about the lycanthropy. Do you suppose he'd tell her?" Inquired Sprout.

"I have decided Janet to be uncommonly kind, and I have a small hunch she is not the prejudiced type."


	2. Of Bare Feet and Favors

Chapter 1

:::::-:-:-:::::

So many worlds inside her eyes  
She's a spectacular girl

:::::-:-^-:-:::::

I gesture to let her walk in front of me into the library. She had left the two big doors wide open when she went for dinner. Madame Pince would have sealed them with her last dying breath. I stride next to her looking with big eyes at the collection of books, and she sighs contentedly. I've never seen a more delightful woman. I would pull on her curls if I had any gall. I have no gall.

So instead, I say what any boring person would say.

"Let's familiarize, shall we?"

"I shan't ever be completely familiar," she says with a wonderful despair. In a kind of way where you know she's not really upset, that she's joking, but not showing it in the slightest way.

"Don't look at the big picture," I reply blandly. "Come on."

She nods and walks over to her new desk. Quietly, she slips off her small leather slippers and pushes them aside with her foot, then returns to my side.

All she does is look up, expecting me to start walking, as if she hadn't just exposed her perfect little feet. I'm not going to question a beautiful thing.

I lead her all the way to the left corner of the library, looking back to steal second and third gla nces. She's wearing this little grey sweater with elbow patches, and a pair of loose little denim shorts folded at the seam. Her hair is tied back softly with a ribbon.

At the top of a staircase in the corner I stop in front of her, hike up my sleeves and spread my arms.

"First thing's first, probably the smallest section in this library: Muggle Literature.

She gasps and floats past me. Running her finger along the shelf, she spots a large book with ripped seams and yanks it out of the shelf. With a spin, she flops onto the armchair by the stair rail. Her hair swings over her shoulder, and it sits in a shine. Her face beams.

"I do have a soft spot for muggle fiction." There's an uncanny excited embarrassment on her face . She's holding The Odyssey. An old story that I only every skimmed through in my sixth year. I pocket my hands and smile.

"Me too."

"Well," she says firmly after flipping through the pages a few times and placing the book back in it's place. "I shall spend all a lot of time up here recommending." She wipes the shelf with the tips of her fingers. "And dusting, too."

We leave the overhang and I point into a small study.

"Here is where you will not see very many students. If you wish to avoid Madame Pomfrey, this is the medical section."

She simply laughs. Terrific laugh.

Later after we went through all the rows, and I've explained to her where everything is, we make our way back to her desk. It's more like a tall counter, squaring around the door to her rooms. Many a time in my youth had I snuck behind that desk, for different reasons, different things.

"Well I'm going to go finish settling my self in," she says. "Thank you for showing me around."

"You're welcome ," I reply dumbly.

"We still don't know very much of anything about each other, Remus." What a surprising thing she is. I laugh, and she follows suit.

"We'll fix that with time," I say.

"Okay," she walks to her door, and before leaving, pops her head back out. "See you at breakfast."

"Absolutely," I reply. She smiles, and closes the door.

:::::-:-:-:::::

I pull out my wand to obliterate the last of the Lockhart pictures I had found in the closet . I really hate that guy.

Last night I was thinking, wondering why I'm getting myself into such a knot thinking about Janet? It is very immature of me to be so attracted to her. Of course she's a beautiful woman, and she's kind and pleasant. But I have to think realistically: I'm too old. thirty-five years is a long time, and if you think about it, I'm the same age as Snape, and he looks right about over the hill. There is grey at my temples, lines on my forehead.

Also I'm a werewolf, and who's capable of loving one of them? Not even my parents, and that's the cold hard truth. I accepted it a long time ago. Just give it until the end of the day for Snape to out me. He hates me very much. H e would consider it something of a pleasant conversation. Then she'll know, and I'm not assuming, or for Merlin's sake hoping anything, but I won't blame her if she's repulsed by the news.

:::::-:-:-:::::

A smokey grey owl swoops into the dining hall and lands next to Dumbledore at the head of the table. A small table set for the staff who are at staying as Hogwarts before the term starts.

This morning I sat across from Janet who is wearing this very nice white blouse with a tiny red ribbon weaving in and out around the neck, which swoops to expose her whole wonderful collarbone. She is talking to Severus on her left side in a irately engaging conversation I can't hear.

"It seams, Janet," begins Dumbledore. "That this letter is from Irma Pince regarding the upkeep of her old room."

I hear a couple of snorts, and dry mumbles . Janet flicks her eyes to each person inquiringly. When they reached me, I smile in reassurance.

Dumbledore continues with a clever smirk. "It reads : I had just newly mended the curtain on my bed two years previous, and it would ail me to think it being ripped and tossed about under the ware of the temp." At this we all laughed, even Snape, and Janet began to purse her lips playfully.

"So in conclusion, my dear you must take care that the curtain does not rip, nor the mantle to get dusty, or else the ghost of librarians prior will haunt you," chuckles Flitwick.

She pouts and sparkles her eye. "Well, then perhaps I must jump on the mattress a bit to establish my territory ," she says in mock consideration.

Amidts a bout of laughter I spot Severus snickering to himself secretly.

Dumbledore's great ha's fill the room. "I'm very pleased you feel at home here, Janet, we welcome you happily."

"Too true," gushes pamona from beside me. "Now tell me , love, how old are you?" I would've asked her the same thing earlier if it wasn't such a dumb question. Janet just smiles nicely as if it weren't a rude thing to say.

"I'll be turning thirty in two months."

After a moment, Sinistra sniffs in my direction. "Why look so surprised, Remus?" I glance at janet without making out an expression.

"Janet just looks young for her age, is all," I recover cooly, returning back to my waffles.

"You do, indeed!" cries Minerva.

"Tell us more about yourself. Why did you leave America? Do you have a beau?"

I marvel at her ability to not be phased an ounce by Sprout's impropriety. Instead she replies as if responding to a comment on the weather.

"Well after school I worked as a barmaid, librarian, a professor's scribe, and a pastry chef's assistant. I moved to Ireland and co-owned a chocolaterie for a couple of years, and then found this job opening and did not hesitate to apply."

Pamona elbows my side. I whip my head over for a second to catch her wink at me.

"You make chocolate?" cries Dumbledore.

Janet nods, excitedly. "I make the most wonderful peppermint truffles. I'll give you each a batch for christmas."

The sudden thought of sharing christmas in Hogwarts livens me considerably, and the idea of Janet's chocolate making skills warms me through.

Flitwick laughs "Splendid! And how long have you been married?"

I stupidly drop my fork, and mumble my apologies. Janet begins to twist a gold band on her left hand that I hadn't noticed before. While still straining my ears for the reply, my heart dives for my stomach.

"We never wed. He was the co-owner, and then something very tragic happened," she says in a sad-but-not-sad-enough tone.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Sinistra asks impatiently for the finished story.

"Oh, we fell out of love," she puts simply. I go back to my meal, ashamed for fee ling so much within such a short span of time.

"This blasted ring has a spell to stay on my finger, until death do we part. Which is not even romantic if you think about it, because we were only ever ever engaged. He bought the thing from a pawn-shop."

"You are so full of delightful eccenticities, Janet," says Dumbledore happily.

Later, after finishing our meals, Dumbledore speaks again.

"Now, I wish to say something of great importance. We have all heard the news concerning Sirius Black."

A great tension is set suddenly in the room, almost sensibly cold. Snape glares straight at me, and I look desperately past his shoulder. Pamona leans back in her chair and the rest stiffen. Janet nods at Dumbledore grimly, but after seeing out faces, begins to look confused.

"Regrettably, the Ministry has commisioned the dementors of Azkaban to guard Hogwarts. I am very unhappy about this, but my hands are tied at their decision. I know I can trust each and every one of you. There is nothing to worry about when it comes to everyone's loyalty."

McGonnagal switches her eyes from me to Severus, and back again. I ignore her.

"That is all I will say in the mean-time," says Dumbledore.

:::::-:-:-:::::

Later, Dumbledore comes into my classroom as I'm dusting out the drawers of my desk. I had lost track of time today and missed lunch.

"May I speak to you privately, Remus?"

"Of course," I reply, getting up.

"Perhaps we can walk to the lake. The breeze outside is quite nice."

As soon as we reach the path, he leaves the small talk behind and says, "You are aware that Harry Potter is in his third year this term?"

"I figured, since he was in the Daily Prophet so much these past two years," I confirm. A mixture of apprehension and anxiety jolts through my blood.

"Well it goes without saying, that I think you will like him emensely. He inherited the very best from James and Lily, holds very much of their love within him. Regardless of Severus's constant complaining," he adds with a twinkle in his eye.

I look across the lake trying to dull the throbbing sense of nostalgia in chest. "I look forward to meeting him."

"I thought as much. But I must advise you. I think it unwise to disclose to him the details of that...unfortunate night twelve years ago. Not yet, anyways. Especially with Sirius on the loose. We don't want Harry endangering himself."

"Of course," I say, hiding the fact that I want to throw up.

"I also wanted to ask a favor of you. Would you mind terribly to ride the Hogwarts express with the students? Just for extra reassurance on my part."

"Not a problem at all," I reply. He nods and we begin to make our way back. Before we part ways, he stops me.

"I suspect that Harry would like to hear nice things about his parents. I don't think you need to deny him that," he winks .

"Thank you, Sir," I say.

I trudge back into my room suddenly feeling worn out, and decide to take a nap before dinner.

* * *

**A/N: Spectacular girl, by EELS**

**So I hope you all like where I'm going with this.**  
**-Elena**


	3. Of Smoked Ham, and Lack Thereof

A/N: It's so late right now. I was holding my eyelids open, just cause I wanted to put this up and get it done.

Reviews, please!

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:::::-:-:::::

Have you ever sat down in the fresh cut grass  
And thought about the moment and when it will pass  
Hey man, now you're really living

:::::-:-:-:::::

Hmmph. Nine o'clock . My stomach calls angrily at me, and I roll over on my back for more air. I fell asleep only a few moments after flopping onto my bed, and remained that way for the better part of seven hours. Sitting up, I reach for a t-shirt and replace the collared shirt that left button imprints on my neck. I suppose I'll be up for a while, having gotten a full day's sleep, and I missed a couple of meals. I'll go to the kitchen for a bite, come back and perhaps work on a couple more lesson plans until I get tired again.

:::::-:-:-:::::

As soon as I step out of the portrait hole to the kitchen, holding a ham sandwich, and feeling the warmth of chocolate liqueur in my throat, Janet hurries past and jolts to a stop upon realizing me.

"Remus, where've you been?" she cries, and continues without answer. "You _must_ come and see," she then snatches the sandwich out of my hand and begins walking down the corridor feverishly. "At once!" she calls over her shoulder moments later. Her hair flying behind her, and I reprimand my own feet for following so eagerly. Well, she _does_ have my sandwich.

I end up jogging to keep up with her. We climb to the second floor and turn into the dimly lit library, stopping in front of a large plaque etched with rules and regulations. She exclaims, sounding very distressed. Her eyes are bright, and there is a flush in her complexion.

"This won't do. Read the third bullet," said huffs and slaps her knee. I skim the list over quickly. The same one from when I practically lived in the library. The third item is the bit about no food. "I refuse to conform to this silly rule."

And with that, she takes a giant bite out of my sandwich. Elation brightens her face. "Hey, is that smoked ham?"

"I wouldn't know," I pout.

Examining me after another bite, she puts her hand in front of her mouth to hide alarm. "Oh dear, you seam peaky! I reck'n you need a drink."

Which explains a good deal to me right now . A smile is all I can manage, and before I know it, she has my wrist and is dragging me into her rooms. I don't have much time to let the feel of the bedroom sink in before an almost full bottle of Firewhiskey is thrusted into my hand. I lean against the arm of a fauteuil. I can't help but laugh at the situation, and she spins around lifting papers, and rummaging through her trunk. As she searches for heavens knows what, I spot a small ripped and ragged bit of parchment taped to her window sill.

It's a ball point pen sketch of a Black Eyed-Suzie plant. Delicate and simple, and seeming like a to-do list boredom adornment.

A square flask put in front of my face snaps me back into reality .

"Be you amenable to some happy spirits tonight, Remus?" She cries eagerly.

I untwist the top for her, and take care of the cap on my whiskey, tipping to her, and we drink, and drink, and we drink.

I can hold alcohol well. Janet is a shameless lightweight. I take away the flask after only three more cheers, and hide them under her bed as we sit across from each other, cross-legged. All this feels so vaguely familiar: Getting wasted in the quiet of a dorm. Talking with a girl about trivial, honest, amusing things. Unabashed, un-gaurded, and adolescent. I have the burning sensation of sentimentality in my breast. It smolders in my gut and twinges in my throat.

Leave it to me to get choked up about this sort of thing, but I'm drunk, and I haven't had someone my age to just sit around with in a long time.

Because she sort of _is_ my age, after all.

"I still don' know you very well," she says and claps her forehead, exasperation struggling on her face, and her body sways back and forth unsteadily.

"What would you like to know, love." My head is heavy so I drop it against the bed post. My stomach growls. I feel sluggish and hazy, but aware of everything going on, so it takes a moment to begin to worry if certain truths are about to 'out'.

"Let's see." She taps a finger clumsily against her mouth, and then falls onto her back in a heap. "What's your favorite color?"

I sigh. Wondering why I felt slightly put out. "Er... blue."

"Una'septable," she drolls . "D' you realize the vastness of blue ? Bruise-blue is ugly, and the stoney-turquoisy-blue is pretty. You see?" I smirk at her not-so-eloquent logic. But then screw up my face in concentration. It makes sense: liking some blues better than others. I just try to picture the first good blue thing. Thinking hard, something vague and simply comes fuzzily to my mind

"Well...there are extra pillows that they leave in a closet in the student dormitories. In third year, I had forgotten my own pillow from home, and went to the closet to find one. They didn't have cases and were striped blue. There was one, and it was a lighter shade than the rest. It wasn't old or worn or anything, just a different blue. I took it home with me at the end of term and brought it back year after year, and kept it. I lost it a couple years ago. I like _that_ blue."

I look at her when I finished, and she sits up and is regarding me carefully. After a few moments I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. To let her have a better look or not, I don't know, not being in my right mind and all. I become self-conciously aware of the scars littering my skin.

She reaches out and puts her palm flat against my forehead gently, and then rakes her slender fingers up through the center of my hairline. Her hand comes down on the crown of my head, and then slides off the side of my face, a feeling of her skin lingering in it's wake on mine along my jaw.

"I'm getting to know you," she puts.

I found myself thanking her. She smiled.

I remember something and reach out to take the little piece of paper on the window.

"Can I have this?" She looks at it sadly, and with apprehension agrees to let me have it if I take care of it. I'll probably laminate it and use it as a bookmark for the rest of my life. Who knows? But i'll keep my promise.

"Go on, next question," I say, folding the parchment and putting it in my pocket. She gets up and sits on her knees playfully, now eye-level with me.

"Professor, why are you still single?" I straighten my back in trepidation, and fall backwards against the post again, putting a lot of space between us that I never realized was getting smaller. She looks startled by this reaction.

"Oh! m'sorry! " she cries and buries her face in her hands, falling on her bum. "What a foolish thing to ask!" she shakes her head furiously. "I'm so rude."

And here she sits, covering her face, and for a second I think I saw her shoulders tremble. Se can't be crying! Why am I such an dick?

Instead of reaching over and pulling her into my arms, like any nice sensitive man would do (probably ending up getting infinite brownie points), I turn and throw my feet over the side of the bed, and look at my socks.

She puts her hands in her lap and gazes at her finger nails, and we remain this way stupidly, silently for I don't even know how long. I feel like such an asshole, letting her sit there pathetic and embarrassed. For that span of time, we both must have been hopelessly lost in our own respective thoughts, because I didn't feel and awkward tension.

I was dwelling on her question, diving so far deep into my faults. I have idiosyncrasies that even annoy me. No wonder I can't hold a relationship, let alone start a normal one. It doesn't matter how much I treasure the fancy of a wife and children (what I would do for children, I can't begin to tell), my prospects are bleary, and dimming with each new day.

And...fuck, I'm a werewolf.

The half bottle of Fire whiskey finds it's way back into my grip, and it's contents generously rediscover the back of my throat.

Once again I am on a spot-search for solace. It isn't at the bottom when the amber liquid swished s upwards. It never is.

The alcohol vitalizes some sort of nerve in me, and I turn to look at my companion. She is so pretty. Under my regard, she looks at me hopefully and a little bit shamefully.

"I did'n m -"

"Don't. It's okay," I interrupt, way more coldly than I could ever have intended. Peripherally, I see her rub her eyes glumly with the heels of her hands. What am I doing to this woman? She did nothing wrong.

"You _are_ beautiful," I say unexpectedly, in a low, uneven tone. Something in me told me to tell her, though. We look at each other for a long time. I'm too far off to process what her expression is saying, but I'm staring her down all the same.

But she does something.

She tries to kiss me.

I know this, because the first thing that registers is how her shoulders are sloped, and her neck is craned, and her throat is exposed and pale.

In that instant I have a myriad of feelings rushing through to my face, and it sobers me so much for a second, because I don't know but it appears that this woman is intoxicated; so impaired that she's craning her neck so enticingly to kiss me. The poor woman must not be able to understand who she's doing this to.

I happened to me once. After the yule ball in sixth year we had a little party in the Gryffindor common room. We all got very plastered. It was wild. Nicole Fanzie started snogging me, and we went for it for a really long time, until she jumped off of me and said, "oh, sorry Remus, I thought you were Sirius. have you seen him around?"

I mean I didn't cry or anything, but I was sixteen. My ego was still developing.

I come to reality just in time to fall off the bed. Right before those lips touch mine.

"D-don't..." I manage. I don't want her to do anything she'll regret.

Her eyes look like they're about to spill over in embarrassment. "Okay," she chokes out, and lifts her t-shirt over her nose to sob into it.

I get up holding onto a side table, and knock over a couple of things. I'm in kind of a bad position.

"Lemme help you back up to your room. " She says, holding onto my elbow.

I mutter my thanks and we set off.

We stumble through the corridor into viaduct entrance holding onto each other tightly. The DADA tower entrance is right there. The stairwell just looks so unappealing and I voice my opinion. She agrees.

So we sit on the first step, and smoke cigarettes.

"'m sorry, Remus," she says quietly after crushing the smoke beneath her slipper. I don't respond, because I don't know why she's apologizing to me.

"I took it th'wrong way. I really wanna be your friend. Please don' make this awkward."

Ouch.

"Of course," I say morosely. I look to her smiling, and tweak her chin. "Absolutely."

We get up the stairs after very much trouble, and I don't realize that she's walking back to the library all by herself. She offered to escort me, and I was practically holding her up the whole time. She doesn't have to know that I'm a part-time monster to be repulsed by me. I'm just a jerk.

I'm really hungry.

And I'm so fucking drunk right now.


	4. Of Headaches and Heroism

Chapter 4

:::::-:-:::::

Put out that smoke and breathe some air  
Get a new name and cut your hair

:::::-:^:-:::::

I wake up early, my body screaming at me in dull aches and throbs. Today I have to walk to Hogsmeade, apparate to the platform nine-and-three-quarters and then ride in a train full of screaming teenagers, all the way back here.

In real honesty, I'm as excited for it as any first year would be. I wouldn't be surprised if the blur of nostalgia made me pass out.

It's not an all that happy thing. It's bittersweet.

And not only will I have those feelings to deal with, but last night's events may cause internal problems for me, and I'm not talking about any hangover. There are enough potions for that.

I remember most of it, I wasn't _that_ drunk. I can only pray that she was so wasted that she had no idea what she was doing, or the faintest memory of it this morning. It'll just save the embarrassment on both sides.

After all, she made it plain that she wanted to be my friend.

It was said in all genuine politeness, and consideration of my feelings, and it attracts me to her slightly. Damn, this is unfortunate.

I gather my things, and get dressed. I'll go eat breakfast with everyone before I leave.

The staff greets me as usual when I appear in the dining hall, salutations ranging from utterly pleasant, to uncomfortably scornful. Janet meets my eyes, and she smiles nicely and nods her head. I'm brave enough to take the seat next to her and smile.

"How was your sleep?" I ask.

An almost-alarming flicker of something like rue is quickly replaced by passiveness on her face.

"Oh, I slept," she says vaguely with a revealing smirk. I find myself on the verge of suspicion, even though her expression remains sincere. Perhaps she's joking.

"That's as good as anything," I reply. For the next five minutes, I talk idly to Flitwick about students and things like that. Janet turns toward me after a pause.

"Will you be busy this afternoon? I was hoping you could show me around the grounds," she asks. I'm beginning to think she doesn't remember much from last night, or maybe she is just outstandingly forgiving, or maybe she's dim or something.

Oh, she's not _dim_.

I feel sort of disappointed informing her of my task today. I think I see disappointment in response, but I am smitten, and that makes my senses inaccurate.

"Next time, I suppose," she says with a small smile.

"Once the students come along, you'll be very busy, dear. But then it will calm down, and there'll be plenty of free time then," cuts in Sprout. I clear my throat uncomfortably.

"Good," I hear her say contentedly.

I'm just so confused about everything. Her mirth in regards to our company blinds me, and especially after our conversation on the stairwell, I don't know what to think.

Well then. That sounded smallishly akin to hope. I must squash this hope. It is false and has an emotional consequence. Complications I just don't need.

I stand up when I'm done. "You must excuse me - I have the Hogwarts Express to catch for the eighth time in my life," I announce. Dumbledore laughs.

"I owe you a favor, Remus," he says.

"No need," I reply, and wave goodbye to everyone, shamelessly avoiding Janet's regard.

I meet Filch at the front gates of Hogwarts grounds and he lets me out grumbling and mumbling all the while.

In a flash and a jumble I find myself in front of the steaming train. I'm early; the train doesn't leave for another hour, but I was anxious to get out from that dining room and all of its nerve-splitting occupants.

I get on, find a cubicle, and fall asleep.

:::::-:-:::::

I stir first because of how suddenly cold it gets. It stings, like ice biting at my skin. I feel like vomiting, and I doubt and depression grips me unexpectedly, and so quick. My eyes creep open and it's dark, and there are dark figures.

Dementors.

I feel so sick and tired and drained, that I almost can't will myself to move, but panic lets me go, and I cast a Patronus charm as far and fast as I can.

Silver light bursts into the darkness, bleary and struggling to keep from smudging in the thick despair, but it's enough, and the dementors squeal eerily and swoosh out of the train.

There are three students in the cubicle. A tall red-headed boy, a hysteric looking girl, and another boy, the one who was attacked, with brown unruly hair and round glasses.

I know who this is. He was in the Daily Prophet quite often last year, and before that. And he is after all the spitting image of one of my closest friends.

Harry swoons and collapses. The girl shrieks

I pick up Harry carefully and place him on the seat, as the train starts moving again. I hadn't realized it stopped.

"Is he okay Professor?" She cries.

"He'll be fine, he's just blacked out." I look over my shoulder and the other boy, who I'm guessing is a Weasley, is sitting across appearing highly disturbed. The girl is whimpering.

This is my first day on the job. I should go see if everything else is okay. I remember the chocolate in my briefcase.

"Have some of this. It will make you feel better," I say handing them the treats. "I'll be right back."

They both take it gingerly and I head out to make sure every one else is all right.

:::::-:-:::::

"Taking the Defense Against the Dark Arts position is Remus Lupin…" they applaud me politely, and I hear Harry, Ron and Hermione cheer enthusiastically. So many faces are looking up at me. I wonder what they think. By the look on some of the kids – many of which in Slytherin – I can tell they have already judged me. I nod my head, and tug at the fraying on my cuff under the table.

"…And Janet Hill in place of Madame Pince for this term," he continues. Along with the clapping, I hear a couple of catcalls. Janet just smiles and waves.

Later when Dumbledore commences the feast, Flitwick leans over from the right of me. "Bravo on your heroism on the Hogwarts Express today," he says with a twitch of his moustache. "I think you made a very good impression, considering you are to teach Defense." He smiles and turns back to his meal.

Hagrid two seats down winks at me.

I look down the other side of the table where Janet sits almost at the end, and she's already looking at me. She colors slightly, smiles and distracts herself with bread pudding.

There's so many students, and every now and then I can see one or two at a time examining me and then turning back to whisper to their friends. I wish I knew what they were saying. I've only seen a couple of sneers.

:::::-:-:::::

I head to my rooms when all the students are in their dorms for the night, and pass Janet on her way to the Library. I say goodnight, but she touches my arm to stop me.

"Remus, um… I wish that- uh… I wish that what happened last night doesn't ma-" She pauses helplessly. I never thought she could be tongue -tied. Usually she says everything without a bother.

I hold both of her hands in mine awkwardly.

"Please, Janet. Don't worry. If you ever need me, you know where I am," I reassure her and look in her eyes one last time before I turn away from her and go back down the corridor.

* * *

A/N: Please review if you have something to ask, or correct, or consider, or will have _me_ consider.

Greatly appreciated!

Song at the beginning: Packing Blankets by EELS


	5. Of Fliddleflies and Verbal Fights

A/N: Here's the next one. I'm taking a slightly different direction with this, so please read and review. I thrive on feedback! I am a feedback skanky-pank.

* * *

Chapter 5

I want to be forgotten,  
and I don't want to be reminded.  
You say "please don't make this harder."  
No, I won't yet.

:::::-:^:-:::::

My first class this morning was a double-period fifth year class, and the only thing I had trouble with was a Ravenclaw boy, who had an insubordinate attitude and a plaid shirt hanging loosely out of his sweater.

The first half of the period was taken up with class expectations and the like, in which a girl with a long braid down her back asked me whether I was married or not. I stammered a no and the girl next to her giggled. This was a catalyst for a rush of irrelevant questions concerning my personal life. My favorite one was when a student asked me where I got my "brilliant face-scars," I told him dryly that I walked into a ferocious shrub, which the class had a good laugh at.

I had given each pair of students a Fliddlefly to wrestle into boxes the second half of our time, and it seemed to go well.

When class ends I dismiss the lot and begin gathering the boxes full of the angry buzzing creatures, when someone taps my shoulder. A confident looking girl, and a boy who had finished the lesson credibly fast stood there looking up at me.

"Er…Yes, what is it?" I ask.

"Professor, we would just like to introduce ourselves," said the girl with her chin up. The boy smiles pleasantly.

"I'm Maxwell, and this is Prudence. We're the Hufflepuff Prefects," says the boy. I glance down at their shiny new badges, and a memory floods through, leaving me in a dry wake. After a moment, I shake my head and smile.

"Pleasure," I say smiling, putting down the boxes on my desk. "You know, I was a prefect in my day."

"Brilliant," says Maxwell, putting his hands in his pockets. Prudence nods her head smiling and says, "The lesson was fun today, Professor Lupin, but we have a few suggestions-"

"_You _have a few suggestions," he interrupts. She rolls her eyes and places her hand on her hip.

"Only because you don't like to contribute,"

"First day, Pru. Don't get ahead of yourself."

She shakes her head and turns back to me. "Okay then," she gives Maxwell a severe look. "I'll just tell you that some students like to play dumb 'annoy the teacher' games. Especially for teachers like you. So just ignore them" She lifted her chin again and looked back and forth from the two of us.

"Teachers like me?" I inquire. "Would you care to extrapolate?"

Prudence looks sidelong to Maxwell, who points to the Gryffindor banner on my desk, and then touches the small patch on the cuff of my jacket.

"When you say 'students', do you mean Slytherin students?" I ask ruefully.

The two look at each other, shrug, and nod apologetically.

I have them help me put away the Fliddleflies, and thank them before letting them go to their next period class, and getting myself prepared for mine.

:::::-:-:::::

The next day at breakfast, I hear a cluster of sixth and seventh years discussing yesterday's classes at the Ravenclaw table. Shamelessly, I listen in, watching my scrambled eggs closely.

"Fredrick Nelson was sent to the hospital wing in Herbology first thing yesterday. A lost cause, that one," said a boy.

"Well maybe Sprout should be more careful with what she's teaching us with. She has an assignment for us to write twelve inches on self-destructing venomous creatures that are native to England, so I asked Ms. Hill what section I could find books for that sort of subject, and she sent me to the 'extremely deadly creatures' shelf. Sprout said we would be experimenting with these things later in the year! Is that woman trying to kill us?" replies a petite girl.

"Speaking of Ms Hill," laughs a boy. I look up to catch several of the kids smiling and wiggling their eyebrows suggestively.

"What a fox!" Says one.

"She could organize _my_ library _any _day," chuckles another. They all burst into a fit of laughter. A couple of the girls in the group roll their eyes.

"She's really funny," a girl says.

"I think she's a bit odd. Reminds me of Lovegood," another supplies.

Everyone shuts up when the object of their conversation walks past them in a pretty calico sundress. I sort of jump a little bit upon seeing her and my fork flings into a dish of mint jelly nearby.

"Sorry, Remus," she says plopping down next to me. "Didn't mean to startle you."

I laugh in spite of myself. "I didn't get a chance to talk to you. How was your first day?"

She smiles with one side of her face and a dimple appears near her chin. "It was a bit of an adventure." She laughs. "A new life experience I can add to my list!"

I nod smiling a little and look at my plate, thinking about my day. "Days that go just as they ought are slightly too boring."

She agrees and nudges my arm with her shoulder affectionately. A giggle captures my attention soon after, and I look up to see the kids I was eavesdropping on doing the same to us. I occupy myself with my eggs again.

:::::-:-:::::

A knock on the door right after I fall asleep wakes me up in a hurry.

"Remus!" I hear McGonagall shout in a whisper, and then she knocks three times more. I'm putting on my robes as I open the door for her.

"Is everything alright?" I cry, my adrenaline rising.

"Dumbledore has summoned you to his office right away," she says with a grim expression. I follow her all the way up a corridor and she says the entry word for me. Before we enter she turns to me and puts her hand on my shoulder, giving me a meaningful look, and then continues up the stairs.

I admit the first thing that I thought it might be, and hoped it wasn't desperately, had something to do with my condition. I've known McGonagall since I was eleven, and the only times she ever gave me a look of such compassion was when I had an especially bad turn of the moon, or that time Snape found out about everything, and there was another time when I failed an oral test, and I was so upset about it.

I doubt that I'm about to learn my marks from Dumbledore. I suddenly get a great feeling of dread.

We find Dumbledore and Snape sitting quietly, waiting for us.

The latter nods to Minerva. "Remus, please sit down." He has a normal expression, and I sit. "News has reached our ears of a sighting. Three Hogsmeade residents last night reported seeing Sirius Black near Hogwarts." I loosen the neck of my t-shirt; I'm starting to get too warm already. For a moment he has a sort of silent conversation with Snape, who is glaring at him, and then he turns to me.

"Remus, your Hogwarts years were filled with problems as much as they were filled with good memories. We may never know Sirius's real motives, but we are not going to risk it either way." I put my elbows on my knees and bow my head to run my fingers through my hair. "Snape had given concern that you have an 'in' with Sirius –"

At this I lose control. "How dare you!" I scream at Snape. "Don't you have _any _sensitivity, you meddling sod? That night I lost all three of my closest friends _to my best friend, _and you have the audacity to think that I may have something to do with him to this day?"

"Remus-"

"NO! You've always been this way, Snape! Are you angry that a werewolf got the job you've been pining for all these years? Or are you still bitter about the embarrassment Sirius and James put you through, of which I had _nothing _to do with?"

Snape stands up at this with his fists shaking at his sides.

"Gentleman, this is not the place!" cries McGonagall, but Dumbledore puts his hand up telling her to sit down.

"I advise you to mind the things you say to the man who makes your wolfsbane potion," Snape threatens. I swallow my anger and sit down. I know when I've reached a limit. Snape however, takes this as defeat and laughs. He says goodbye and walks out the door.

"Thank you, Remus for holding back. I would rather have things settled without harsh words and emotional outbursts."

"Sir, I-"

"I'm not finished." He interrupts, "I don't blame you for feeling angry at all. Severus is letting his past take a hold of him by accusing you."

"You don't think tha-"

Dumbledore puts up his hand to stop me. "I've known you since youth, Remus, and I trust you completely. You needn't worry about you job."

I practically collapse in relief. I look up to Minerva and she has concern written on her face. An unusual sight to see.

"You may go. And please, Remus, don't worry about the potion. I'll see to it personally that it is up to code."

I thank him and hurry out as fast as politeness allows me to. On my way down the staircase I stop and sit to just let myself breathe, letting the rush of emotions settle inside of me.


	6. Of Pats on the Back and Pasts Revisited

Chapter 6

The can lead you  
Hide or reveal, too.

:::::-:^:-:::::

A house elf gave me my laundry personally this morning, which was only part of my surprise. I was sitting reading the Prophet when the creature, which apparently had had the job cleaning the DADA professor's room for twenty years, walked up to me in an unsteady, wheezy sort of manner, holding something out to me.

She opened her knobby hands tentatively watching me, and sitting in them like a precious jewel was the drawing I found in Janet's bedroom, crinkled and torn a little bit. I had forgotten that I had put it in my pants pocket that night. I smiled when I accepted it, and dismissed the old elf.

I did just what I thought I would with it: I put a sticking charm on it to a slender piece of rice paper, and tucked it in my lesson plan notebook in place of my old bookmark. It looks quite nice in there.

:::::-:-:::::

"She carries a red handbag," says Neville. I laugh and walk behind his shoulder so the class can't hear what I'm about to tell him.

"I would like you, Neville, to imagine your grandmother's outfit on the Boggart Snape when he comes out."

He gives me an appalled look, and this jerks awake multiple memories in me of his father wearing the same apprehensive expression.

"We were quite good friends, you're father and I," I say in a tone only he could here. Its irrelevant, and offhanded, but something I'm sure we both need. He pauses, and then gulps and turns determinedly towards the closet. This puts a bout of pride inside of me, and I wink at the group of intrigued third years behind him, pointing my wand at the wardrobe.

The knob shakes and turns, and Snape steps out glaring threateningly at Neville. He starts his pompous saunter, as direct and seething as the real thing, and for a moment I feel sorry for his chosen victim.

Neville timidly raises his wand and, in a loud, but shaky voice declares the spell.

"_Riddikulus!" _He cries, and in a flip and a jumble Snape reappears dressed as grand mum Longbottom.

A roar of laughter errupts throughout the entire room at the transformation. Neville smiles, and walks back to rest of them where he is greeted with multiple pats on the back.

They all start begging to be next. The fun goes on and on until Harry steps up, eager as ever, and I hear a couple of jeers and taunts from the back of the class. I can't help but think how a lot of people would like to know what Harry fears most. I jolt suddenly in dread afterI point my wand. Dammit, what if it's You-Know-Who? The knob turns and I become more and more apprehensive. Everyone in the room is quiet.

My hands begin to prickle from a creeping cold, and I hear a few gasps from behind me. Grey scabbed fingers curl around the door, and a Dementor follows right after them. I'm stunned frozen for a few moments when it begins to float eerily towards Harry.

A couple of things happen next.

The Boggart has reached Harry when I run in front of it with my arms spread out wide. It stops for a second but then jumbles and switches it's shape into an unbearably familiar round glowing thing, littered with clouds slowing uncovering it, just like I've seen so many nights.

I pull myself out of this foolishness. It's just a Boggart.

"_Riddikulus!" _I shout, and the celestial horror begins to deflate and whip wildly around the room like an open balloon.

All is quiet, and it takes me longer than it should to recover than it should, because there is a whole group of thirteen year-olds behind me waiting for me to say something. I turn to Harry.

"M'alright," he moans.

"Okay, that's it for today's class, you're all dismissed, and don't forget to read in your text books about Boggarts for next time. Page two twenty-three" I say, rounding them up and practically pushing them out of the room.

"That was the best Defense class we've ever had," I hear someone say. The regular energized murmur has returned to the crowd, and I guess I had expected to hear them complaining or whimpering on the way out.

But the corridor is echoing with laughter and excited talk and everything else.

:::::-:-:::::

"Aren't you the jokester!" cries Flitwick to the right of me.

"Pardon?"

"I heard all about your Boggart practice today. Jolly good fun, I'll say. You still have that jesting good humor from your Hogwarts days, don't you?" He chuckles and turns back to his meal.

"I heard all about it," said another to my other side in a low tone; it's Janet. "From _three different _students!" She throws her head back and laughs.

"You hadn't thought I was a humorless stiff, had you?"

She clicks her tongue at me. "Not a chance."

I become overly pleased by this sentiment.

:::::-:-:::::

About a week later I hear a knock on my office door.

"Come in." I call out. Snape comes in with a goblet full of a thick smoking potion, his head held high as usual, and looking down his enormous nose at me. He comes up to my desk and puts the goblet down impatiently.

"Bon appetit," he sneers and crosses his arms.

"Thank you," I say simply, looking at the potion apprehensively.

"Go on, it won't kill you. I think."

I give him a horrified look. What the hell is that supposed to mean? I glance down at the potion and blue smoke is bubbling out of it. I've taken Wolfsbane before; this looks slightly different, or maybe I'm just paranoid.

"We're adults now, Severus. Let's act like them."

"How good of you to suggest," he seethes. "You _were_ always the sensibleone, trying talking them out of the most idiotic of stunts. You failed most of the time you know."

I stare at him in disbelief for coming at me in this direction. "I don't know what you're trying to get with bringing them up, but they are completely irrelevant to _everything_. Like I said, Severus, act your age."

"Likewise. I mean that for both you, and for Black who is probably hidden in here somewhere giggling like a crazed school girl."

I don't say anything. I can't think of anything to say.

I remember about the time we were trying to recover a rare Zonko's popbomb from McGonagall. It was in sixth year, and three of us hid underneath her desk when James's distraction plan proved faulty. Peter morphed into a rat leaving Sirius and I cramped and vulnerable.

She wouldn't have found us if Sirius didn't laugh as soon as he thought she had closed the door. That all ended in a good two weeks detention. The popbomb was never recovered.

A smog of resentment and regret swells in my chest tempestuously upon reliving the situation, and I come back to reality. Snape is still standing there. I'm still at a loss for words so I fall back on giving him a contemptuous look.

His sneer deepens. "I'll find out if you're up to anything," he adds.

"You don't know what you're talking about. I hate that man as much as you do." Despite my most lupine-like rage bubbling within me, I don't continue, and he just tosses his greasy head.

"I heard about your cute little Boggart trick last week. Very mature, Remus." I roll my eyes and he vacates my office, leaving the door open. I wonder how he knows how much that annoys me.

The potion is still simmering distastefully, but I know it's worth it. I've never been great at potions, I could never dream of making it on my own, and I could never consider paying for it either. It makes everything so much more bearable, and I realize that if I do not get up and thank him right away, I could be risking something. My health, or my life, maybe.

Guilt might have something to do with it as well, and besides, I _am _grateful for this slop.

"Severus, wait!" I call out, getting up. A moment later he reappears in the doorway, wearing the same sinister expression. "This is not right of me," I make myself choke out.

"What's all this about, Remus," he says raising an eyebrow.

"I'm very grateful that your making the potion for me. For the sake of our jobs, can we put aside all the pettiness, and remain completely professional." I reach out my hand to shake, he only eyes it, and this turns me around a little bit. I kind of begin to see his side of everything, and it starts with distrust. I've always known where that kind of condition comes from. "Please, I'm sorry for the animosity. Can we put that behind us? Especially if you're going to be making the wolfsbane for me every month."

He looks at me with disgust, takes my hand, and shakes it.

"_Strictly _professional," he sneers.

He turns and starts away again. And I haven't said all I've wanted to. Before he's too far away I stop him.

"I wish I could've done something to stop them." He doesn't look back, but he stays put. "No one deserves that kind of bullying. He was jealous of you, y'know. Because of Lily."

At the last word, his head dips. After a moment (a moment I believe to be rather significant), he takes up his quick-stepped pace again.

I think he just needed that sort of win, in the regard. For once.

**A/N: **Please review!


	7. Of Soft Hands and Discerning Looks

Chapter 7

:::::-:^:-:::::

Oh, an incurable humanist you are

:::::-:-:::::

Normality sprinkled into my schedule as October rolled in. I like my classes, and my day-to-day life is better than it has been in a long time. Respect is something that I thought I would never have in these amounts. A lot of students call me their favorite professor to my infinite wonder.

Janet knocks on my office door sometime in the middle of the day on the weekend.

"Come in," I say smiling.

"Bonjour!" She says brightly, crossing the room and sitting in the armchair across from my desk.

"What can I help you with, Madame?"

"You promised me a walk on the grounds, your word is long overdo," she points out, eyeing me with a curious expression. I lean back in my chair and clasp my fingers. I want to avoid any conversations she might want to have but her face is not to be rejected, I think.

"I'm at your disposal whenever you require me," I reply, feeling excited at the proposition.

"I hope you aren't busy at this moment, because I necessitate you readily."

I nod at her shining smile. Something so brilliant deserves better company.

I get up and motion for her to follow me, grabbing my jacket by the door. On our way through the corridors we talk about how we like our tea, and whether or not raisins are good in carrot cake. Past the lavatories we discuss small peculiar things that subliminally remind us of Dumbledore. Through the quad we converse animatedly on people who sing when they think nobody is listening.

When we step out into the clock courtyard, I feel her arm snake through mine. I can't possibly think of a good reason why it should be there, still there is no possible way I want it gone.

I mean what else would I do in that situation? It puts me in an awkward and wonderful place.

We sit down near the menhirs.

"So you've known professor Snape a while?" she asks casually. I begin to show my teeth in distaste, but think better upon seeing her curious expression. I mean, I told him to grow up, and I don't like to be a hypocrite.

"We've known each other the vast majority of our lives."

"What is he like? I think he's kind of funny."

A subtle venom flares through me. "He's bitter and contemptuous. An insufferable man," and this officially makes me a hypocrite. I can see that has surprised her tremendously. She leans back and cocks an eyebrow in confusion.

"Well, don't get upset!" she cries, gently slapping the back of my head, and it stings a little. Out of reaction I rub it and look at her playfully astounded. She giggles to my delight.

"I'm not going to ask, for fear of something in you to snap again. You'll break loose and wreak havoc because of something unbeknownst to me between you and Severus." What a nice choice of words... I do that all the time as a matter of fact, she couldn't have pinned it more accurately.

It dawns on me: Snape probably told her everything.

I get too warm all of a sudden, and can't even respond, though she doesn't seam to notice. I avoid her eye-contact which she is trying very hard to keep, clear me throat, and begin to roll up my sleeves.

Apparently it's a bad idea because she immediately ogles at my scarred forearm. Well, 'ogle' is the wrong word I guess. She has this strange delicate look on her face. Made out of fascination and concern, and something like ache. All I can do is hold my arm out and sit still, utterly confused.

All of a sudden she reaches out and gently takes hold of my wrist, and runs her thumb over one of the larger scar that barrels my arm. She looks up into my face then and her brow slants deeper with sympathy. I return the gaze, but with more of a half-lidded, raised eyebrows, and nervous look.

She reaches up and gently hovers over my forehead, and strokes the angle of my jaw so lightly. My heart beats faster at her closeness. The scar at my chin winds all the way to my throat, and she sees that by tracing it with her finger tips and tugging at my collar. By the look on her face, she probably spotted one of the worse looking scars. She flicks her eyes back to me with so much inquiry, and meaning, and something else.

I don't know what that is.

And then it's different. She kind of shakes her head, sighs, and loses her posture. And holding the gaze, her expression changes.

Her head is tilted, and her mouth is thin and crooked, and she feels _sorry _for me.

I look to the ground in defeat, I don't remember when she first got a hold of my hand, but it's there, and it doesn't make me feel better. I can just sense this ugly layer of pity in the way she's looking at me, and it makes me angry. What makes her think that she can just rub her soft-as-pillows hands all over my face, like some heartless tease, and then sigh with pity for me? I've seen this so many times. So often people automatically have a superiority over me, and they look at me like I'm a child, or a hopeless cause, and it numbs me, and I can't give her the satisfaction of feeling soothed by her. I'm anything but. I play dumb. Act as if she didn't just grope my face with some in-genuine emotional tenderness.

"What's wrong with you?" I ask dully, pulling my hand away, and putting a small sneer on my face. She jerks her head in surprise and her mouth is agape.

"What do you _mean_ 'what's wrong with me'?" she squeaks. It looks like she's about to cry again. She gets up in front of me and points to my chest jauntily, leaning over so that our eyes are on the same level. She looks like she's about to swoon and fall over.

"What's wrong with _you?_" She says this quite loudly, her cheeks all flushed, and there's something on her face I don't expect to see. I would assume her to be red with anger, but she looks hurt. She looks as if _I_ hurt _her_ feelings. Turning on her heel, she runs away with an extreme lightness of foot, leaving me tired, angry, and kind of as if she just beat me up.

:::::-:-:::::

I skip dinner so that I can lie in my bed.

There is concern that Snape made known all of my problems to Janet. They _were_ looking quite buddied up during lunch period. At least I know that she isn't repulsed by me. After all she touched my face a lot. And I'm not going to lie, when she tugged at my shirt I had a fleeting "hot and bothered" moment, but that's to be expected, I'm a swine. I saw down her shirt a little bit when she lent over to yell at me, and I got an annoying goofy tickling feeling when she brushed her hand over my arm. I couldn't stop looking at her lips. I am a hateful, lustful man.

And... she is a flirt. She led me on shamelessly.

You got to know when to stick up for yourself, you know?

Here's a small thing though: I know, I know, I know that if I missed a beat, and she didn't give me that gaze full of pity, and if she only squeezed my hand one more time, if only things went a little differently, I would have kissed her.

I would have grabbed a hold of her neck and pulled her towards me, and I would have made her knees buckle.

Because in that moment, right before I realized the worst of the situation, I knew that she was for me, and she wasn't going to stop me. I saw an impalpable connection, and I desired nothing more than to capture that as my own.

At least that was for a little while.

* * *

**A/N: **Uhhh, hi! I'm alive, actually in case anyone was wondering.

I wrote another chapter as you can see, and I'm going to write more, so I hope this will encourage more readers and more reviewers, 'cause God know I like _them._

Regina Spektor's, "Loveology" lyrics at the top 3

ps. I have a plot written out, so I'm not flying by the seat of anyone's pants. Maybe that will entice you =3


	8. Of Lycanthrope and Philanthropy

**A/N: I'm back with a really long chapter. Please review, especially if you're favoriting it. **

* * *

Chapter 8

Traveling, swallowing, d ramamine  
Feeling spaced, breathing out listerine  
I said what I'd said what I'd tell you  
And that you'd killed the better part of me

:::::-^-:::::

The fifteen minutes after the last bell rings used to be my least favorite time of day, because I got myself out of something awkward by volunteering for something fun. The thing is, unless someone has something to discuss with me after class, I have nothing to do while the students vacate my room. Usually I ended up rustling with papers, and opening and closing drawers in my desk not specifically looking for something.

One day when I was sifting through already graded papers, Roger Davies told me casually, (that one is rather chatty) he noticed I was the only teacher who ever really stuck around after class, and he wondered why.

I was swift by humor. I played some reverse psychology. I told him sarcastically that I was only pretending to get my things together, so that I wasn't standing there awkwardly. He stood there for a moment wondering if I was joking or not, and then he laughed, cause he saw that that would be just plain pathetic, especially for a teacher who is just so awesome. These are his thoughts, not mine.

So I heard Flitwick say he didn't have time to stand in the hall, to monitor students as they pass. I offered to do it for him.

I dispel congestion, and ease fights and bullying if I need to, I tore apart two people snogging the other day. The kids like to see me in the hallway, I joke around with them a little.

Sometimes I hear students bragging about who has it "in" better with Professor Lupin.

My head is only getting bigger these days.

:::::-:-:::::

The upperclassmen left for Hogsmeade just about an hour ago, and the castle is simply radiant with peace. I could do cartwheels down the corridors and no one would see. I reckon the little first and second years are having lame little parties in the dorms, feeling independent for the first time at Hogwarts.

I wonder what Janet's up to? I shouldn't, but I do.

I turn the corner in pursuit of her, when Harry Potter of all people rams right into me. This shall be interesting.

"Professor! Sorry, I – er...sorry," he stammers.

"S'quite alright, Harry." It looks like he's about to retreat, but I can tell there's something he wants from me now that he thinks about it, so I help him out. "I think we should have a chat, don't you? I believe we have some things in common," I offer. His eyes light up a little.

"Yeah, sure."

"We'll go to my office, have some tea," he nods, and we change directions into the DADA wing.

"I was actually going to ask you..." he hesitates.

"What's on your mind?" I don't know what to make of all this. He makes this face where he leans his head and scowls apprehensively. All of a sudden Lily Evans is here in spirit, and it makes me nervous.

"Well, I've been wondering about the first lesson we had, and how you had to dispel the boggart for me."

"That was a while ago," I say, as I unlock my door, and motion for him to sit down on an armchair.

"I was hoping you could tell me why you wouldn't let me fight it for myself." He finishes and breathes.

I actually hadn't thought about this one. I mean it's obvious, that I wanted to make sure he wasn't hurt... I never dug deeper than that. But then I all of a sudden know, and subconsciously, I probably knew all along.

"I thought the boggart would have turned into You-Know-Who," I say readily.

He doesn't make a face, or flinch or anything. He just sits there, looking past my shoulder, and chews it over for a little while.

"To tell you the truth, professor, I don't think I'm really all that afraid of Voldemort. Not truly, at least."

This catches me off guard: I did not expect him to say this. I mean it makes sense, the boggart didn't turn into Voldermort, it turned into a dementor. I settle myself and think, and he only watches me.

"I see," I say, finally. "Well, well . . . I'm impressed. That suggests what you fear most of all is - fear. Very wise, Harry."

The corner of his mouth goes up briefly. "I thought you thought I wasn't going to be able to do it," he chuckles.

"Rest assured, that is not the case." I smile. "Why aren't you in Hogsmeads with your friends?" He dips his head, and sighs.

"My 'gaurdians' won't sign my permission slip. McGonnogal wouldn't let me go."

My god, this could just about break my heart. I think back to all the Hogsmeade trips I went to with Peter, James, and Sirius. I shiver.

"Sorry" I say in nearly a whisper. He looks up and nods.

The most wonderful thing happens next. Snape walks in with a steaming hot goblet full of gunk.

"Alas, my two favorite people. I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he says setting the wolfsbane on the desk. A lump of it slops onto the countertop. I notice that Harry and I both have looks of distaste on our face, for two different reasons I suppose, though I see his point of view.

"Thank you Severus," I make myself say. I can tell there are so many things he wants to spit out at me, but to my pleasant surprise, he does not.

I turn back to Harry and he's looking at the stuff like it's from another planet.

"Just a bit of tonic. I've been feeling sort of peaky."

"Oh," he says.

:::::-:-:::::

What an awful evening.

It's that night of the month.

Yeah, that's the best way of putting it. First, I spent the evening of the morning vomiting my only brain out, right before McGonnagal knocked on my door in a frenzy. I told her to make it quick, since it was coming, and though the wolfsbane is surefire... well, no one wants to see that.

Sirius was here. He tore the fat lady to bits, and the Gryffindor students were in the dining hall. She told me, and I felt angry. So angry, that I trembled, and my bones ached, my skin burned, all this feels a lot like when I'm looking at the night sky.

I couldn't keep very good track of myself after that. She probably saw my pupil's dilate and turn yellow, she must've shut the door behind her so fast after locking it from the inside, and then ran somewhere else, to go get the other staff. I was officially out of commission.

The wolfsbane makes the experience better, but it's still tough. Tougher to endure than anything else I've ever done before. My mother asked me a long time ago if it's as bad as having birth. I'm no expert on that, of course, but yes, I'm certain that it is, if not worse.

Like pregnancy, emotion plays a big part, only you have to do it every month for your entire life. Lets call it sixty years even, so you would have seven hundred and twenty babies.

But then what's left? No joy, no miracles, nothing to make it worthwhile. I'm beaten and bruised, lupine blood pumping through my veins only to mix with the small bit of human blood I have after that, making me sick to my stomach all too often, and ultimately disconnected from all of my old 'own kind', whether they be people I love, or not. Transforming shall never be compared to having a baby. Having a baby is a beautiful part of life, something that I'm sure I'll never experience.

That's how I've been feeling for the last five minutes, because that's when I woke up.

I guess I found my way onto my bed last night. It's not like I ran around my room and tore things to bits; the wolfsbane prevents that. Most likely what happened is I ran around in excruciating pain and then fell on my bed.

I hear a knock on the door.

"One moment," I croak tragically, the vibrations of my voice feeling like fire on my throat, and the mere thought of moving around, much less entertaining a guest sends dread shaking through my body. I don't know who it could be.

I lift my arm slightly to push myself up, and all of a sudden every joint aches as unbearably as I can express, my muscles are tense and sore and they scream with pain. This all comes so quickly that it surprises me and I cry out in agony.

"Remus?" I here someone say, I wince, because I'm pretty sure it's Janet.

"_Give me a moment_!" I roar angrily, losing my patience. I force myself to slowly rise, and my head spins with vertigo, throbbing and begging me to stop exerting anything close to energy.

I lower myself onto the floor and grab a t-shirt, crawl over to a basket of clean laundry and slip on boxers and sweatpants.

I shake and my legs buckle as I stand up, getting the cane leaning against my bed-post. I wait a minute to get my bearings and then wobble all the way to the door, my hip feeling out of place, and the undersides of my arms burning. I smooth my hair down somewhat, and open the door.

Janet is standing there with a look of intense alarm.

"_What happened?"_ she cries, holding both hands on her stomach as if she were about to throw up. This sends a jolt of worsening to my headache, and I flinch noticeably. I can't say anything, Not only do I not want to say anything, but I'm dwelling to much on every other part of my sore body to even remember that it's my turn to speak. I uncomfortably shift my weight from one leg, and back to the other.

She takes a step towards me and cradles my face in between her hands. I close my eyes helplessly as she strokes my cheek with her thumb and goes to feel my forehead with care, her eyes flitting with concern across the plains of my face. Why does she always do this? I getting to bear standing up and functioning less and less, my eyes blink and become unfocused.

"You need to rest," she asserts, taking me by the waist and shoulder, and escorting me back to my bed. I watch dazedly as she straightens my sheets and tosses different pieces of clothing onto the floor, while keeping a hand on my arm to make sure I don't fall over or anything. She opens the covers and points to them.

"D'you need help?" I nod like a sleep-deprived child, and she helps me sit on the mattress.

"Oh, dear." We both look up and see Dumbledore standing in the doorway. Before Janet even says hello, she makes sure I'm lying down, and the cover is over my shoulder. She then walks over to him.

"It appears Remus needs a day in bed."

"You are right," he replies. "Would you mind letting me speak to him alone for a moment?"

"Sure," she says. "I need to go get something for him out of my room anyways. I'll be back shortly." I don't hear him respond, but Janet leaves, and Dumbledore walks over, and materializes a chair beside my bed to sit in.

"Severus will be taking your classes today," he said this as if I should be relieved. I would rather have them unsupervised. I make a weird throat sound in distaste.

"What 'bout his classes?" Merlin, that hurts.

"He will be using a time-turner for the day."

"Seems like loads of trouble," I manage. "Jus' cancel th'classes."

"You mustn't worry, Remus, try to get some sleep. I've read about the biological changes of the werewolf..." I wince painfully here. "...and it is tremendous the pain and nausea you must go through so often. And if you don't get proper rest, it holds great significance emotionally and physically the next time it happens, and years after that."

That was utterly fabulous. Thank you Albus Dumbledore for making things ten times shittier for me. Not only do I have to sit here and, and not even sleep because of the pain, but now I know that it gets worse. Fantastic. I smack my lips unpleasantly, and my eyes are lowly lidded. I feel a stinging get stronger and stronger on the calf of my leg, but I don't even want to lift it to see.

"I won't send you Pomfrey, Janet seems to have things under control." My eyebrows shoot up at this. And he chuckles, the bastard.

Thanks a million, Albus. What an inspiration.

Janet makes her way in and Dumbledore mentions to himself "how lovely she looks this morning."

She kneels by the bed placing a tin on my nightstand.

"What in the world happened to you?" she asks rhetorically her voice soft, seeing that I'm not fit for talking. But there is one thing I should ask her about.

"Jan," I say and then cough weakly. "Can you check my leg?" She looks confused and very concerned, and then nods dutifully.

"Which one?" I point to the left. She pulls back the sheets, and rolls up my pant leg, and I here her gasp.

"W-what?"

"There's an enormous _scratch _on your leg!" She cries, and I wince as my headache pounds on my temples. All I can do is moan.

She begins mending it right away.

"I don't _think _you need stitches. I'll just wrap it." She pulls out her wand and transfigures her bracelet into a bandage, then proceeds to fix it onto my leg. What a strange thing to do.

When she finishes she gets up. "I'm going to go find you something to eat," before closing the door she looks back at me with a stern look on her face. "And I'm going to find out what happened to you whether you tell me or not."

Ooh, how frightening.

:::::-:-:::::

I wake up the next day and Janet has left a note on my forehead.

_I asked Sinestra and she snorted in my face and walked away, McGonnogal told me to ask you, Flitwick said he had no idea, Sprout power-walked away from me,' and Dumbledore is no where to be found._

_Please tell me Remus._

_Concerned,_

_Janet._

I'm feeling better, I mean I'm congested and my head still hurts, I have a slight ache in my muscles, but it's not unbearable anymore.

I'm in the mood for a walk. And I will avoid Janet at all costs.

I shower and grab my cane, and I'm off. Maybe I'll just go have a light late breakfast.

Students in the hall way ask me how I'm feeling, and tell me to get better, saying how much of a tosser Snape is, and how he's ruining DADA for them. This makes me feel slightly better. The staff table has already been cleared of food, so Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan and Romilda Vane ask me to eat with them at the Gryffindor table.

"Sorry you're feeling off, professor," Dean says.

"What is it you have?" asks Romilda. I laugh to myself at the thought of telling gher that I'm a werewolf.

"I have a poor immune system. Most likely just the flu." Seamus looks at my cane curiously. "And my bad knee acts up, because of it." Why? I don't know. But I do have a bad knee.

"What does your knee have to do with the flu?" he asks inevitably. Thirteen year olds. Gotta love them.

"S'pose you should ask Madame Pomfrey that one. I don't know." I smile for good measure.

I only have toast with Jam, and a bit of tea, so that my stomach doesn't act up, I say my goodbyes and hobble away. At about noon, Harry knocks on my door. I tell him to come and he sits on the armchair across from where I'm sitting.

He cuts to the chase. "I was wondering if you could give me private lessons."

"You're really well in Defense, Harry, I don't think you need extra tu-"

"No," he interrupts. "I want you to teach me to fight off dementors." I think about this for a moment. I don't really see why not, and I would like to spend more time with Harry. Maybe I'll be a sort of role model for him, er...you know, or not.

"Yeah, Harry, we can do that." His face brightens. "I won't have time until after Christmas though, I'm afraid. I have a full schedule, and I'm also tutoring some other student."

"I can wait till then."

"Good. It's agreed."

* * *

**A/N: **Dramamine by Modest mouse up at the top. Fantastic song!


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